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Skyla
The smell of garlic and butter fills the kitchen, spicy and warm, and a little overwhelming. Tadeo’s at the stove, stirring the chorizo and peppers that are starting to sizzle, while I cut thick pieces of bread to toast. It feels easy and normal in a way that still surprises me.
I can’t shake the panic that slammed into me at the department store. It’s been clinging to the inside of my head ever since.
Every time one of them looks at me for too long, or one of their hands lingers on my back, I can’t stop wondering how long it’ll be before they’ll get tired of waiting for my heat. Before they realize I’m not worth the effort.
The thoughts loop all day and well into the night until I finally drift off—only to wake up sweating, breath caught in my throat, from dreams of Knox leaving me alone and scared in the woods. Sometimes it’s not only him. Sometimes it’s all of them.
“Did I tell you how I met the pack?” Dakota’s cheerful voice cuts through my dreary thoughts. He’s perched on the counter, legs swinging, stealing slices of tomato behind Tadeo’s back.
“No,” I say, spreading a thick layer of butter on each slice of bread. We’re making migas. It’s Tadeo’s grandma’s recipe—apparently, she made it with stale bread soaked in olive oil and water, but Dakota insisted on plain old butter...I'm kind of thankful for that.
“So,” Dakota grins, launching into his story, “last summer. I was working at this little nutrition shop downtown—you know, the kind that smells like chalk and steroids? And this guy—” his brown eyes sparkle as he looks at Tadeo, “—walks in asking for some stuff formulated for alphas.”
Tadeo glances over his shoulder, brows raised. “Some?”
Dakota laughs. “Okay, several things. He had this list, all serious, and I swear to God, the second I see him I forgot how to form sentences for like ten seconds straight. The man was—” he waves his hand dramatically at Tadeo “—gorgeous. Tall, built like a damn sculpture, smells like a vacation, and somehow looks both annoyed and perfect at the same time.”
I smile at that, knowing exactly what expression he means while Tadeo just shakes his head.
“So, naturally, I followed Tadeo around the store like a lost puppy,” Dakota continues. “Explaining every single supplement we had. Like, ‘This one’s for joint support. This one’s for energy. This one’s for hair growth.’ I must’ve sounded like a walking brochure.”
Tadeo chuckles low, the sound rumbling through the kitchen as he cracks half a dozen eggs into the pan. The chorizo hisses and grease spits.
“And then,” Dakota says, voice rising with mock drama, “I turn to grab something off a shelf and—bam!—the whole damn display of protein powders crashes to the floor. Hundreds of them. Everywhere. A couple even crack open, and suddenly there’s this massive cloud of vanilla whey just—poof—exploding through the air.
It’s snowing protein.” His arms wave in the air, trying to mimic it.
“I looked like a damn frosted donut, Skyla. Hair, shirt, eyelashes—covered. And Tadeo here just stands there, all sexy and stoic, like some Spanish statue in a blizzard of nutritional shame.”
My smile grows on its own as I picture it.
“I was mortified," Dakota says with a dramatic lilt.
Tadeo laughs, despite himself. “You were adorable,” he says. “All red-faced and trying to apologize to everyone in a five-mile radius. I couldn’t help it,” he looks at me, “I asked him out that same day.”
“That’s so sweet.” I press a hand over my heart.
Dakota freezes mid-gesture, expression serious all of a sudden. “Oh no.” He looks at Tadeo, eyes wide with mock outrage. “You didn’t tell her the best part.” He gives the alpha a pointed look, and Tadeo ducks his head, staring intensely at the sizzling pan.
“I only thought it was my fault,” Dakota says. “But it wasn’t until months later, after he introduced me to Knox and Alex, that he finally came clean and told me that he was the one who actually knocked the display over with his damn foot.”
I laugh, and even Tadeo cracks up now, a deep sound that vibrates through the kitchen.
“Yup,” Dakota says, shaking his head in fake disbelief. “Our entire relationship was built on lies,” he crosses his arms, “and protein dust,” he quickly adds.
“I think it worked out fine for you,” Tadeo teases, sliding the pan off the heat.
“Yeah,” Dakota finally admits, his smile growing soft. “Guess it did.”
I can't help but laugh at the pair, the last of the stubborn tension in my belly eases…for now.
I slide the buttered bread into the tiny toaster oven, watching the coils flare orange.
“Did you meet Knox and Alex in some equally scandalous way?” I glance over my shoulder at Tadeo.
The alpha shakes his head with a little smile on his face.
“No, nothing that exciting. I was working as a site manager for this tiny construction company while I was studying for my CPA. Knox got hired on there too—came in all gruff and confident, told me my crew was doing everything wrong.” His mouth twitches like the memory still amuses him.
“We argued for three days straight before realizing we were saying the same thing.”
Dakota grins. “Classic Knox.”
“And he introduced you to Alex?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Tadeo exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head again.
“Once the site wrapped, Knox stuck around. He got Alex a job there a few months later.” His smile grows as he gives the migas one more good stir.
“He was trouble from the start. Showed up hungover, wearing sunglasses indoors, and he talked nonstop.”
I can’t help but smile as I picture it—the four of them crossing paths by accident, colliding in ways that stuck. It makes something wonderful ache in my chest.
“I nearly fired the asshole within an hour,” Tadeo says flatly, making me giggle.
Dakota leans in, smirking. “But you didn’t.”
“Didn’t have the heart,” Tadeo admits. “He made everyone laugh.”
“Alex is very funny,” I say, smiling softly as I glance at the toaster oven.
Dakota gasps, clutching his chest like I’ve just betrayed him. “Excuse me?”
I laugh playfully. “I mean—he’s not nearly as funny as you, obviously.”
Dakota grins, smug and relieved, as he hops off the counter, brushing crumbs off his lap. When did he snatch a piece of bread?
“You are my favorite person in this whole house,” the beta wraps me in a warm hug, nuzzling my cheek. It feels so good.
“Excuse me?” Tadeo’s dark brows shoot up, pretending to be offended.
“I said it, and I meant it.” Dakota gives me another squeeze as I laugh again.
The toaster oven dings softly behind me, and Dakota releases me. It takes everything in me not to pout.
Butter hisses as it drips off the edges of the toast, the smell warm and salty.
I pull the tray out, and hum. For a moment, I’m surrounded by the smell of garlic and spices, and the sound of my pack’s sweet banter.
By the time all the toast is done, the front door opens and familiar scents spill through the house—smoked cherries and citrus.
Knox and Alex’s voices mix in the hallway.
Dinner comes together fast after that. Plates are filled, laughter between bites.
Knox sits in his usual chair beside Tadeo, shoulders loose, expression softer than I’m used to.
Dakota’s sitting across from him, mid-story, hands flying as he recounts something that probably didn’t happen exactly the way he’s telling it.
Alex doesn’t sit. He leans against the counter instead, holding his plate in one hand and gesturing with a fork in the other, jumping in with little comments that keep everyone laughing. His grin keeps finding me—quick flashes of teeth that almost feel like winks.
The air feels light—full of laughter and clinking dishes and the warm smell of chorizo and bread.
For a while, I almost forget the heaviness that’s been sitting in my chest. Dakota and Alex’s jokes, Tadeo’s quiet smiles, and Knox’s occasional teasing—they all blur together into something that feels so perfect and safe.
But somewhere between bites and laughter, something inside me cracks. It’s small at first, barely noticeable. The sound of their voices feels like it’s coming from a little farther away, like I’m on the outside of the moment instead of in it.
I keep smiling, keep my tone bright, laughing at the right times. I even manage to sound like myself—at least I think I do. But it’s so hard to act normal as this bizarre, disconnected feeling grows in my chest.
I take another bite of my dinner while the boys all chat about their day. But it doesn’t taste as good. It’s tinged by the sharp edge of my own scent—anxiety souring the air around me. I pretend not to notice, and pray no one else does either…but it’s not likely. Not with their alpha noses.
So I laugh again, a little louder this time, and take another bite of food. Pretend everything is fine. And maybe if I pretend long enough, it actually will be.